Elle didn't really think about falling in love, not really. She knew one day she would fall in love, and get married and have kids and then grandkids, but right now, at Hogwarts, falling in love and getting married seemed an eternity away.
Often, when her and her friends gossiped about the Slytherins, they would groan and declare that they would rather die than to date one of them, or if one of them had detention with Filch, they would complain and whine and beg each other to present their dead bones to their mothers so that they could have a proper burial.
However, Elle never really thought about actually dying. Sure, You-Know-Who was a huge threat now-a-days, ever since the Potter boy had broken into the Department of Mysteries. However, Elle had the notion that she would only die when she was nigh of a century; after all, she was only about to enter her seventh year! She was of course, scared that You-Know-Who or his Death Eaters would come calling and possibly torture her, but dying? Come on, she wasn't going to die!
So little, naïve, childish Elle had a fairytale notion that she would grow older and older with her spouse, the one man whom she loved, a daring Gryffindor, and that they would finally die peacefully together in their sleep, surrounded by bluebirds, and soft music, and the sweet chirping of their dozens of grandkids.
Oh, how lovely her notion was.